Contracts
by Bloody Fox
Summary: The Order never realized how far Harry was willing to go to secure his freedom. Oneshot.


**Summary: **_The Order never realized how far Harry was willing to go to secure his freedom._

**Notes:**_ Not HBP or DH compliant. Dark! Harry._

_I've read quite a few stories where Harry gets sold off / forcefully married to a Death Eater after the war is over (usually Lucius or Snape) resents it at first, then accepts it, then falls happily in love... _

_This is nothing like that._

.

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_**Contracts**_

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_**.**_

He stared at them with not a little bit of cynical amusement. So this was how it ended for him? The hero, savior of the world –or at least the wizards of Great Britain- sold off like a piece of property, but he wasn't really sold was he? He was practically given away, the price to pay for the services of a man who wasn't any more moral than the Dark Lord and was just about as trustworthy. They lay the world on his shoulders and then, once the job was done, they did their best to get rid of him without looking like they were the bad guys in the grand scheme of things. Perhaps he should have let Voldemort live.

He looked at their faces, lips curling and a bitter laugh escaping him. He watched as several of them flinched at the sound, and they turned away. Pathetic. They couldn't even look him in the face. He turned a sneer on them and looked remarkably like the man he was to be given to. Dumbledore stared right back at him, watching with sad eyes that conveyed sympathy. Harry snarled.

"Don't you dare look at me like that!" He hissed. "You don't get to look like that when you sold me off like cattle."

He was pleased that he made that pained look pass over the old man's face. He should hurt. The bastard was little better than a slave trader for all that he had done. "Harry." His voice implored understanding, pleading with him to realize the necessity of what he'd done.

"You don't get to call me that either! It's either Potter or nothing at all!" He snapped, only barely containing the absolute fury he felt.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore conceded. "You must believe that we did what we believed was best."

"Best my ass!" His magic lashed out, blowing apart all the teacups and the teapot. "Don't you dare talk to me about what's best! Another price could have been reached but you," He gestured to every one of them. "Weren't willing to pay it, so you just arbitrarily decided that I could be sold away. Where's your moral high ground for that you sanctimonious asshole?" He stood, his chair tipping to the floor behind him.

"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall said outraged.

He snarled wordlessly at her. "When you get sold off as a veritable slave, then you can yell at me." He turned away from her and towards Lucius. "I don't even have to ask, I know you did your job well when it came to wording this little contract."

Lucius nodded in answer anyway. It was full proof, and though he knew that the young man wouldn't like it (hated it in fact) there was nothing the other could do. He'd even put strict guards on it falling under 'no harm' and even for adultery. Harry made a wordless noise that was probably more often heard from a rabid animal than a person.

"Send me a copy and the date. You won't see me until then." He then turned on his heal and left the room, knocking several near-by baubles from their places with the force he used to slam the door.

"Well," Lucius said bemusedly. "That went better than I expected."

Snape snorted at him, but had to agree that he, too, had thought it would be worse. He'd been expecting blood, at least.

~..~

"Harry? What was that about?" Ron asked, taking a seat beside him in the library.

"Our illustrious headmaster sold me off to Lucius Malfoy."

"What?" He asked in horror, blood draining from his face.

"Oh yes, and the rest of the Order knew about it. Apparently it's the price for his _spying_ for the Light side."

Ron had nothing to say and could only watch gape mouthed as Harry tore through his trunk and pulled out his broom. It was when the other teen unlatched the window that he finally regained himself enough to grab hold of Harry's robe. "What are you doing?"

Harry looked back over his shoulder from his crouching position on the windowsill, his eye lit with fury and, surprisingly, cunning. "I have a plan, but I can't be here for it."

"Are - will you come back?"

Harry cast a wistful look around the dorm room. He wouldn't miss it, exactly, but he would miss the people and the memories. He shook his head. "I don't think so. Which ever way this plays out, I'm not sure that I'll be allowed back."

The sheer dark promise in that tone had a shiver running down Ron's spine. "You're… uh, not going to murder Malfoy, are you?"

"Ending up in Azkaban would be a little counter productive to what I'm trying to accomplish." Harry snorted and pulled his robe gently from Ron's hand. He gave the redhead a last look before throwing himself out the window. Ron watched him fall and pull sharply up on his broom and fly off over the forest. He didn't know where Harry was going, almost didn't want to know, but whatever the other was doing, he supported him. He wouldn't want to be sold of to a Malfoy either.

"Ron?"

"Eh? Oh, hey Neville." He said as he pulled the window closed and latched it again.

"Did Harry just jump out the window?"

"Saw that did you? Yeah, he's got something to do." Ron turned away from the window and headed towards his trunk for the books for his next class.

~..~

It had passed to sunrise when Harry finally touched down. He'd cast spells that would negate tracking him on the flight so he had no worries about being followed when they'd discovered he'd left the school, but that really wasn't the largest problem. He needed to set up a contingency plan. Unfortunately he needed help with that, and the one that could help him wasn't exactly… normal. At least, according to the memories he'd gotten from good ol' Tom when he offed the bloody bastard. He stepped up to the dilapidated shack and knocked. The door creaked open crookedly and a withered face of an old woman with a dirty shawl looked out at him.

"What do you want?" Her voice sounded just as old as she looked and hitched in such a way that he almost cringed.

"I wish to buy your services for a time."

She looked him over critically and stepped back, leaving the door open for him to follow. He did. The inside was nothing like the outside. It had been expanded magically to easily the size of a normal house with only a few walls to divide the space. Dried herbs and animal parts were tacked to the walls and hung from the ceiling. He studiously ignored the human body parts that sat in jars on the shelves.

"You know my prices?"

"Not for this exact service, but I'm familiar with your type of coin."

The crone gave a slow, measured nod and sat into a wicker chair. Were it not for the surroundings, Harry could have thought of her as someone's grandmother. "What is it you require?"

"I need to make contact with a spirit, and I may also need to resurrect the person if he agrees to my bargain."

"You'll need a personal item of the dead to bring the soul to surface."

Harry reached into his robe and pulled out the diary of Tom Riddle. It hadn't been easy to obtain after the incident in the hall with Lucius, but with his political sway as the defeater of Voldemort (again) and 'adorable' face (not to mention a good bit of gold) it had found way back to his hands. He set it down on the coffee table in front of the woman. She reached towards it but did not touch.

"This will work well. What type of body do you want this soul to inhabit if resurrected?"

"Male, thirty at the oldest, magical, and if possible, partly non-human. I'll be willing to supply some of the blood to give it blood born gifts."

"Ah. You must truly have need of this person." She said, her lips twisting into something that could have been a smile. "For bringing the soul up, I shall charge you only a dragon foot, fresh, of course, from an Austrian Blue. If I need to resurrect the soul into a body, I shall require a werewolf heart."

"In human or wolf form?" He asked, already running a list of known werewolves through his mind. Honestly, his first pick was Lupin. Best friend of his parents, honorary godfather, and still he sold Harry away. His presence wouldn't be so missed. He might even do it himself.

"Either." The crone cackled. "The soul will have risen by the end of the week. You have so long to pay, and I will need to know if I shall need a body."

"I'll have it sent to you by then. Thank you for your time." He nodded to the old woman and showed himself out. Hopefully the spirit he wished to speak to would be amenable to his offer. If he wasn't, then he would probably do like Ron suggested and off Lucius himself if he could. Though, if anyone ever found out about his visit to the Crone, Azkaban would be the least of his worries. Necromancy was far more than illegal. He mounted his broom again and flew off, heading to the home of a well-known dragon hunter.

~..~

Lucius folded his hands over the head of his cane. So, Potter had disappeared from the school. It wasn't entirely unexpected. He didn't know why Dumbledore was having a fit about the boy vanishing. He would have to return simply because of the contract. It wasn't exactly a voluntary ordeal, though it could have been. A knock at his door alerted him to his visitor.

"You asked for me father?"

"Take a seat, Draco." He gestured to the couch across from him. The younger Malfoy did as told with a bit of hesitancy. "You are aware that I am always looking for opportunities to increase the standing of the Malfoy name, correct?"

"Of course, father."

"I had such an opportunity some time ago, and I took it as was expected of me. With the passing of your mother, this was made even easier."

"I'm not sure that I fully understand what you are trying to say, father." Draco stated, hoping that he was wrong.

"Marriage, my son. I'll be getting married again."

Draco managed to stop from sneering. "Who?" And when his father looked so undeniably pleased with himself, Draco knew that he wouldn't like the answer.

"Harry Potter."

"_What?_" He jumped from his seat.

"_Sit down, _Draco. You need to think of all the advantages this will afford us and not that the boy is your schoolyard rival."

"But father, it's – you - marriage comes with certain stipulations!"

"Oh?" He asked bemusedly, already knowing where his son was heading.

"You- you've never shown such inclinations." Draco managed to say, and Lucius had to admit that the boy chose well with his words, very diplomatic.

"So I haven't." Lucius said with a small smile.

"Then, why?"

"Draco, my son, I cannot help but believe you truly are oblivious to the sheer amount of power that boy holds within his hands. Twice over he is named the defeater of the Dark Lord, and twice over is he named a Lord for his houses. If I own him, that power belongs to the Malfoy name. That to tie him to me in such a way requires physical intimacy does not bother me."

Draco cringed. "At least he's not ugly."

"Yes, the boy always has been fair of face." Lucius agreed, almost absentmindedly.

"If you'll excuse me, father." Draco got to his feet and left his father alone. He was disgusted though he would never admit so. He knew his father wasn't a good man, he never had been, but always before there had been a respect for the family and its name. Lucius' marriage to Narcissa had been political, as most pureblood marriages were, but she'd also been carefully chosen. Now his father was scooping up a half-blood, and no matter how _powerful_ that half-blood was, they were still a half-blood in the end. He would do something about this. He wouldn't allow his father to just ruin their pureblood status because he was power-hungry. It was that hunger that had damned them in the first place with the Dark Lord.

Now, how to get his hands on that contract?

~..~

Harry touched down outside the crone's home again, a wrapped dragon claw in one hand, a werewolf heart in the other, and the contract he was bound by in his back pocket. He wasn't entirely sure of this plan, but he knew Tom Riddle well enough to know that the man would take his deal if he could be brought back to life. He knocked on the old woman's hut, and the door swung open with a call for him to enter.

The crone was seated in her wicker chair with a table pulled up in front of her. The diary lay on the table, repaired of all the damage it had been done in second year, and on top of it lay a phoenix feather. Harry didn't take the seat across from the woman until she gestured for him to do so, and then he placed the dragon claw and the werewolf heart on the table. The woman gave a twisted smile, pulling both toward her to examine them.

"Very, very good quality." She murmured over them. "Ah, took the heart yourself I see." She gave a wicked little grin and looked at him as if she could see through him. "We shall proceed then."

What ever it was he had been expecting when the crone started, it sure hadn't been to the result of Voldemort standing before him – if slightly incorporeal. Harry had to admit one thing, necromancy was a damn useful ability if you were willing to pay the cost. He turned his attention back to the Dark Lord just in time to see the man recognize him.

"Potter." He hissed.

"Tom." He responded jovially with a wave.

He seemed to reach for his non-existent wand, but then stopped as his eyes shifted over to the old woman. "How did you know of this place?"

"Funny thing, that horcrux you left in me? Well, it had a lot to share if I was so willing to take it, and I was." He said smilingly.

"What do you want?" He never looked away from the crone.

"To offer you a deal. You see, the Light side decided to sell me off to one of their little Death Eater spies without my say so. The contract used is, of course, unbreakable except at the word of the caster -Lucius Malfoy in this case – or if Malfoy dies. You can bet which one I'm banking on."

"Why don't you kill him yourself?" Voldemort asked, finally looked a might interested.

"Ah, well, they seemed to know that murdering wasn't beyond me anymore and bound my actions with this wondrous piece of paper. I can't bring harm to him, anyone with familial ties, or any of the witnesses to the contract, directly, at least."

"You've been de-clawed." He chuckled mockingly.

"Yes, thank you." Harry snapped. "Now, as for what I'm offering," here Harry's face became suddenly pleased. "My deal is to bring you back to life, with an equal policy on both our parts as to non-interference in each others lives."

"You'd surrender the UK to me?" Voldemort asked, knowing exactly what Harry had meant.

"Most definitely." He gave a grim smile. "The bastards asked for this, after all."

"I think we can work something out, Potter."

"Call me Harry."

~..~

Harry was standing at what could only be called an 'alter'. He was draped in light colored robes, silver and green, of course, waiting for the so-called ceremony to begin. Members of the Order of the Phoenix had front row seats, naturally, and other well-known entities were sitting behind them – the lesser known being further away. He would have sneered at them all hatefully had he not had his back-up plan which, mind you, if Tom decided to skip out on him, he'd hunt the bastard down, torture him, kill him, and then bring him back to life again so that he could do it one last time. Cost to his soul, magic, or what have you be damned.

Lucius was just a few steps away smiling smugly, with Draco and Snape by his side, looking like a pair mourners dressed in black as they were. If Harry weren't mistaken, Draco was shooting dark looks at his father. He supposed that the blond wasn't to happy with his new step father. Dumbledore and an older (if that was possible considering Dumbledore's age) wizard finally appeared. The older one, what Harry would acquaint to a priest were this a muggle wedding, was carrying a small cauldron that simmer softly despite not have a flame under it. The potion for the Bonding Rite. Well, they did do the thing properly, didn't they? With that, Harry would be stuck for life playing the 'wife' to Lucius. That is to say, submissive in all ways that a pure-blood woman was supposed to be.

Dumbledore stepped away from the priest and took a place next to Harry, ignoring the dark glower he was given. The priest raised his hands and everyone fell silent. The Rite began. Most of it Harry didn't understand, as the majority was strings of Latin, almost a cant. He felt a chill go down his spine as the magic started to take place. Fuck. He was going to brutally maim Tom. Forget killing him, he could live his life as a magic-less paraplegic. See how much he wants immortality then, eh?

The priest stopped and nodded to Lucius. The elder blond started his own cant which was actually very short, and then he waved his wand over his hand, cutting himself just a bit, and dripping a small amount of blood into the cauldron. Then it was silent again, and everyone turned to look at him. Harry could feel Dumbledore's presence at his back, the way his magic suddenly swirled outward to remind him that they could and would force it down his throat if necessary.

His lips curled back into a grimace that couldn't, under any circumstances, be mistaken for a smile. There was some muttering from the crowd, but none of those at the alter turned to look towards the commotion. Harry reached down slowly, grasping the cup and tiny ladle from their places next to the cauldron. He poured some into the cup, and looked back over his shoulder to Dumbledore.

"I hope that you regret this for the rest of your assuredly short life." Harry said with his voice barely above a murmur.

"I'm only doing what is in the best interests of everyone involved."

Harry was about to retort to that, when a sudden and familiar presence spiked. His grimace changed to a smile and he turned back just in time to watch a splash of bright green catch Lucius in the side of the head. The blond crumpled instantly. Every one then turned to look at the man who was walking nonchalantly down the aisle.

"Good of you to join us, Tom."

He frowned at the name. "Yes, well, I couldn't turn down an invitation to such an auspicious occasion."

"Tom?" This from Dumbledore, who had paled so much that he looked like a sheet in the wind.

"Ah, Albus." He sneered. "So... _good_ to see you up and about. I'll have to do something about it, soon." His attention than went back to Harry.

"Brat, our deal?"

"Yeah." Harry marched down from the raised platform and held out his hand. Voldemort grasped it. "I swear to up-hold the Contract of War agreement signed in good faith with Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort. I swear to abide all the stipulations and restrictions therein and all policies previously agreed upon."

Voldemort repeated the statement with his own oath. A flash of black light surrounded their clasped hands.

"Harry?" Dumbledore asked now.

Harry turned to look back at the old man and shrugged. "I'm just doin' what you did. I just did it on a larger scale. The whole of Great Britain; I'm sure you understand. With exceptions, of course. Though those exceptions could be changed at any moment if I need to. It would only take a thought." He tapped his lightening-bolt scar and passed a look over the crowd. He had allowed himself to become a horcrux again, as a way to assure his continued safety from Voldemort or his minions. He wasn't so stupid as to trust a Dark Lord's word after all. They had a way of wriggling around those.

"You..." Dumbledore couldn't even put it into words.

"Yup." He said cheerfully and started to walk away.

"Potter," Voldemort called, and Harry turned around. "Didn't you want to watch?"

Harry grinned. "Send 'em over when you're done. I'm going to find an island, a woman, and a nice bit of both to enjoy all at once. To everyone else," He raised both hands, flipping them off. "Fuck you all very much. See if you can deal with your own problems this time around."

He whistled as he trotted away from the wedding, hearing but not bothered by the starting screams. They _really_ should have re-thought their plans when he had given them the chance.

..

A/N:_ Yes, I think that, had a unwilling marriage of any kind been involved, Harry would have gone to great extremes to convey his answer. :) Honestly, this is sort of my own 'fuck you very much' to forced bonding fics – though I, admittedly, do love reading them._

_Also, I am very aware this has a lot of holes... don't go poking more in there, yeah?_


End file.
